


Ties That Bind (Conjunctionis Ligavaris)

by TattoosAndHighHeeledShoes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, HEA, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Romance, Sex, Smut, Veritaserum, marriage law
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24203860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TattoosAndHighHeeledShoes/pseuds/TattoosAndHighHeeledShoes
Summary: "If you think that's an orgasm, Granger, you're in for a long night." They knew each other, even respected each other, but a marriage law, some Veritaserum, and Ministry-mandated memory exchanges will change everything. Dramione. TWOSHOT Rated Explicit for chapter 2.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 136
Kudos: 1495





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (Insert general note about owning nothing related to Harry Potter, as I am not JKR). It's been ages since I've stretched my writing muscles, so here we go!

It was 8pm at the Burrow, and almost every light was on. Magic thrummed through the halls, up the stairs, and out in the garden, but it wasn’t the warm, fuzzy magic that normally graced the Weasley residence. No, it was something much stronger: a fearful, tense energy. If one were to peek in through the kitchen window, they would see Molly and Arthur in the kitchen, whispering frantically with their heads bent together, hands clasped. Percy and his wife, Penelope, were seated at the other end of the long table, looking far less concerned, but each holding a cup of tea in their hands and exchanging worried glances nonetheless. George was sitting in the living room with Angelina Johnson, Ron was pacing a hole through the floor of his room, and Harry had pulled Ginny out into the quiet of the garden.

“Has he heard anything yet?” Ginny asked, threading her fingers with Harry’s as they nestled in the grass.

Harry shook his head. “He’s already sent out every owl we have, but I don’t think they’re going to get there in time.” He pushed his glasses up his nose anxiously and shrugged. “We have no idea where she is. She didn’t even know where she was going to end up after she couldn’t find them in Sydney.” He looked up at Ron’s window. “I think it’s going to be too late.”

Ginny followed his gaze and bit her lip thoughtfully. “Maybe they’ll still get paired up,” she said hopefully. “And if not, then I guess…maybe it’s for the best?” Harry pulled his attention away from Ron’s window to stare at his girlfriend with a look that made her hurried explain, “Well Percy said that the process tests your magical core or something, right? So really, it’s designed to pair people with their perfect magical match. Ron and Hermione haven’t even been toge-” she sighed and stopped. What good would it do to speculate? 

Harry looked unconvinced and something like worry had filled his eyes. “Is-is that what you’d prefer?” he asked softly. “Would you want to wait for the match?”

Ginny squeezed his hand hard and pressed her nose to his. “Not on your life, Potter,” she growled. “You’re it for me. I don’t need a spell or a potion or whatever the hell the Ministry is planning to know that you’re the one.”

Harry pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “It’s just so early. We hadn’t planned-”

“But we _were_ already planning. Eventually. So now we don’t have to shag in secret anymore,” Ginny teased.

“Gin!” Harry cast a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure that they were still alone, and Ginny’s laugh filled the air around them.

“Harry, I love you with all my heart. It doesn’t matter how old we are, if it’s now or in two or three years, I want you.”

Harry nodded. “I want you too. Of course I do. I just hadn’t planned it like this.” They both nodded and he added, “I wanted you to have the wedding of your dreams.”

Ginny had wanted that too, but she kept that buried deep inside and shrugged as though it didn’t bother her one bit. “We can have a vow renewal in a couple years and we can make it a big party. What matters to me right now is that you’re at my wedding, Harry Potter.”

His lips met hers and she let herself melt into his arms, promising with her lips and her tongue that she was indeed very happy to be marrying him. His hands found the back of her neck, pressing her closer, and he smiled against her lips as he heard her sigh happily. When they broke apart, Harry pressed his forehead to Ginny’s and let out a deep breath. “How long are we going to wait?”

“Percy said he would wait until ten to start. We’ll go first and then we’ll see who else is ready.”

A distinctive crack of apparation sounded at the other end of the garden and both Harry and Ginny tensed, hands going to their wands for a brief moment before a familiar couple came into focus and waved cheerfully at them. “Hi Harry, hi Ginny, we aren’t late, are we?” Hannah Abbott asked, skipping alongside Neville Longbottom to match his long strides.

“Not yet. We’re waiting a bit longer for, um-” Harry paused, unsure what he should say to his friends.

Ginny, his fearless half, spoke up. “Ron hasn’t been able to get in touch with Hermione.”

Neville immediately understood, unspoken sympathy clear on his face. “Have you contacted the Ministry wherever she is? They might know.”

Harry shook his head. “We can’t. We aren’t even supposed to know about the law yet. Percy found out this afternoon, but they’re announcing tomorrow after the deadline has passed to keep people from doing, well, exactly what we’re doing.” They all grinned a bit sheepishly and Harry offered Ginny a hand up. “Drink?”

Neville and Ginny nodded eagerly. “Yes, let’s do that.”

As the four walked toward the front door, Neville leaned in and softly asked Harry, “How’s Ron taking it.”

Harry looked grim. “Not well.”

* * *

Two hours later, in the Burrow’s cozy living room, three couples stood before Percy and bound themselves to each other’s magic, disqualifying them from Magical Decree 547721 which would take effect at the stroke of midnight. Harry and Ginny went first, then Neville and Hannah, and finally George and Angelina. Molly cried tears of joy for each couple, squeezing Harry and Angelina so tightly that they both thought they were going to be smothered, and then proceeded to bustle around the kitchen serving tea and cakes.

Ron sat in a chair in the corner of the room, downing firewhiskey at an alarming rate, but no one said anything. They simply watched the hands on the Weasleys’ clock tick closer and closer to midnight. 

Ten minutes till. 

The chatter quieted down to almost a whisper, everyone keeping an ear open for an apparation crack or the roar of the floo. 

Five minutes till. 

A tear slipped down Ron’s cheek. He scrubbed it away angrily.

One minute till.

He stood on shaky legs, screamed, and threw his glass at the fireplace, which flared up angrily with a roar of its own.

The clock struck midnight and Hermione Granger had not come.

* * *

Hermione gripped her mug firmly in both hands and absently sipped at her tea, eyes never leaving the fireplace in front of her. The last three months of her life had not only tilted her world on its axis, but had firmly ripped it from its orbit and given it a thorough shaking like an over-excited, karmic snow globe. Months ago, Magical Decree 547721, or _The Marriage and Procreation for Population Rehabilitation Act_ , had leered up at her from the front page of _The Daily Profit_ after she had sifted through five hastily scrawled messages from Ron, all saying the same thing:

_Mione, the Ministry has gone barmy and is forcing all young witches and wizards to submit to some ruddy testing and bonding ceremonies after midnight tonight. Percy just found out today. He’ll bond us so we don’t get paired with strangers. Come back BEFORE MIDNIGHT._

That fateful day, the late morning sun had illuminated the pages, its light almost mocking her that she was ten and a half hours too late to avoid whatever fresh hell the Ministry was about to rain down on her. Hermione found herself releasing a shaky breath and feeling…grateful? Grateful that she had not returned to her room last night, but rather had spent the night over at her parents’ new house in Perth, having collapsed after the week-long search and the subsequent magical strain of restoring their memories. Grateful, perhaps, that her trip had ripped away her chance to do the Gryffindor thing and return to Ron. She had a feeling that their magical cores were not very compatible at all.

But now who was she to be paired with? A shiver wracked her spine as she realized that there were far worse options in the Wizarding World than Ronald Weasley.

She had obtained a portkey back to Britain immediately, as all witches and wizards within the constraints of the law were now required to present themselves to St. Mungo’s for testing, and had gritted her teeth through the several hours she had spent in the waiting room, listening to hushed whispers and frightened murmurs all around her. She saw some of her friends from Hogwarts and had given them tired smiles each time they asked her, “How can they do this to _you_ , Hermione? You saved the world!”

When it was finally her turn, the mediwitches had given her a Calming Draught to put her more at ease as they tested her magical core. The whole process was complete in less than ten minutes and one of the healers had promised that she would have her match no later than the end of the week.

“That long?” she had asked.

The healer had shrugged. “We are waiting until the end of the order period to make sure that you are paired with the highest match possible.” She looked exhausted. They had most likely been testing round the clock.

Hermione had apparated to the Burrow then, preparing herself for an epic row with Ron, but he had listened to her effusive apology with the stoicism bestowed upon the most morose of drunks, and had told her that all they could do was wait and see if they were meant to be together or not.

Molly begged her to stay for dinner, but Hermione had politely declined. She worked from home that week, afraid to face her coworker...s.

When the letter finally arrived on Sunday evening, Hermione had stared at it for an hour before striding into the kitchen, pouring herself a double shot of firewhiskey to slam back, and then ripping open the seal.

**_Dear Miss Hermione Granger,_ **

****

**_The Ministry for Magic is pleased to contact you in accordance with Magical Decree 547721, also known as The Marriage and Procreation for Population Rehabilitation Act, to elucidate the process for ease of compliance. You have submitted to St. Mungo’s extensive and thorough testing of your magical core in order to ensure that you and your match are found to be optimally compatible. After a second stage of testing, you and your match will be bonded at your earliest conveniences and will be permitted eighteen months with which to produce at least one child, and four years with which to produce a second. Failure to adhere to this timeline will result in heavy fines and/or time served in Azkaban._ **

**_Please report to St. Mungo’s tomorrow at 16:15 for the second stage of testing. You and your match will be scheduled at the same time, as this process is medically non-invasive._ **

**_We at The Ministry for Magic appreciate your compliance with the new law and we wish you all the best. You and your match are our future, and together we will rebuild our great world._ ** ****

**_Match: Draco Malfoy 93%_ **

She had blinked, stared, re-read the letter three more times, and had then promptly poured herself another drink.

Holy shit. Draco Malfoy. Draco. Malfoy.

Hermione bit her lip, thinking of how her coworker was probably reacting. Would he be pacing furiously in his cozy little study tucked away in the back wing of Malfoy Manor? (She’d only been there once. It had been an after-hours cram session before they went to trial the next morning and he had offered to supply her with books and booze –“Coffee, Malfoy!”- as they tried to find the proverbial nail in another Death Eater’s coffin. It wasn’t a big deal…). Would he be furiously clutching at his shiny blond hair? Would he be pouring himself a third drink like she was doing just now?

She giggled, a byproduct of the alcohol, stress, and the tiniest crush she’d been nursing for her childhood bully-cum-coworker. One thing she knew for sure: Draco Malfoy was probably shitting himself. Though they worked together on occasion and shared an office as top council in their division, they were certainly not chums, and Hermione could hardly believe that Draco would be pleased to find out that he was meant to be bonded to her for life, regardless of his current disregard for blood purity and status.

She was going to have to have a baby with Draco Malfoy.

She was going to have to have _sex_ with Draco Malfoy. Sex. Well…

“Shit,” she muttered as her hand shakily poured another drink. “What will his portraits say?”

* * *

She was a wreck the next morning as she hurried through the atrium and headed for the lifts, her neck on a perpetual swivel as she looked around, hoping to glimpse a flash of platinum blond hair. Silly, of course, as she had arrived twenty minutes early so that she could beat him to the office. The lift was crowded, but rather than the typical silence that usually engulfed proper British folks, there was a steady murmur of, “Who did you match with?” “Oh, she’s lovely,” and “Is that the one down in Care of Magical Creatures?”

She strode through her department, nodding and smiling at her coworkers, but walking fast enough to deter most from chatting. She made her way into her shared office with Draco and found him already there, holding two coffee cups and standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. She should have known that Mr. I-arrive-at-the-stroke-of-nine would beat her to it this morning in order to get the upper hand. Fucking Slytherins. She should have arrived at half past eight. 

“Hi,” she said softly, hardly able to meet his eyes. 

He smirked at her, his face neutral and controlled, giving nothing away. “Good morning, wife.” She blushed. She could feel him staring at her, but she couldn’t seem to meet his gaze. He held out one of the coffee cups for her to take, pulling back as she reached for it, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I didn’t know you’d be back today. Your schedule was still pending.”

“Mm hmm,” Hermione remarked, trying to force herself to appear calm, cool, and collected as she set her coffee and her bag down on her desk. “I came back as soon as I heard.” 

“You were gone last week.”

“I worked from home.” Her gaze flitted to his for a split second, finding him still standing in the middle of the room, watching her with those piercing grey eyes of his like she was a puzzle he desperately needed to solve. _‘Maybe some paper shuffling will distract him?’_ She proceeded to shuffle her files like her life depended on it.

She peeked up at him again. He was leaning against his desk, arms crossed over the broad expanse of his chest. He had that stupid smirk still on his face, the one she often wanted to smack or kiss off in equal measures, the one that made her feel like he could see right through her. _‘No such luck’_ she thought. _‘Act natural. Just act natural.’_

“I was surprised to get my letter, actually,” he continued casually. “I assumed that you would be serendipitously bonded with the Weasel by now, like the rest of your little friends seemed to do last week. Tell me, Granger, does Gryffindor loyalty extend so far that you must all get married together like one of your weird muggle cults? Or is it just an added benefit of being war heroes that means you lot got a heads up? Surely it can’t be for cost-cutting purposes. You all _are_ war heroes after all. You must have enough knuts for your own wedding dinners, at least.” 

She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t hear about the law until it was too l- past midnight,” Hermione amended, wincing when Draco’s eyes narrowed at her slip. “I was in Australia.”

“For what?”

“Business.”

“What kind?”

“None of yours.”

“Now, now, Granger. Apparently I’m going to be bonded to you for life. What’s mine is yours and vice versa, including secrets. Plus, all of your paperwork for that week got dumped on my desk, so you _owe_ me.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes right back at him. “I don’t _owe_ you anything, Malfoy. What I do on my own time is still my business. I was on holiday in Australia. It’s lovely there this time of year.”

“So you’ve said.” He stared her down, lips quirking as she raised her chin, daring him to push her. “And?” he drawled.

“And what?”

“Granger, we’ve worked together for two years. I know when you’re only telling me half the story. First it was business, now it’s a holiday. What could possibly be so important that you missed the Weasel’s-”

“Don’t call him that.”

“- desperate plea to come back?”

“What makes you think he even asked me to come back?” she challenged.

“Didn’t he?” Somehow, Draco had moved closer to her desk and was now leaning over it, the scent of his cologne robbing her of some of her thought-processing brain cells. Hermione had to look up to meet his gaze, which was now alight with something equally gleeful and malicious, with something dangerously close to jealousy mixed in. “Did you get laid?”

Hermione reared back, eyes widening in shock. “What?! Why on earth would you say that?”

“Well clearly not since you’re still screeching like a harpy.” He looked…relieved? Impossible. “But what else could Australia possibly have for you other than some wizard who wants to be ‘down under’.”

She grimaced. “You’re disgusting. Can’t I just want a change of scenery?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Please, Granger, don’t insult me. A change of scenery for you in another aisle of a bookshop or a library. You won’t even take a day off when you have a cold, and now you want to tell me that you took a week off to go galivanting around Australia of all places for some ‘scenery’? What scenery do they even have? Kangaroos? Prisoners?”

“Oh my god, Malfoy, just drop it, for the love of Merlin!” Hermione begged. “I’ll tell you when I’m ready!”

He stilled, jaw clenched, and they both breathed out heavily for several seconds before he nodded curtly. “Right. Of course.” He turned on his heel and strode back to his desk, suddenly all business. After several long minutes of unnecessary file shuffling, it was clear to Hermione that he was ignoring her. A page from her own book. Rude.

“Malfoy,” she began, her tone clearly annoyed, but he ignored her and continued his shuffling. “Malfoy.” More shuffling. This was the most shuffling he’d ever done in his life. He was currently flipping through unnecessary files he had already charmed green for ‘completed’. “Draco,” she tried.

His hands stilled on the file and she watched him take a breath before he looked up at her with her his Malfoy mask of indifference. She hated that look. It always reminded her of his trial, when he had stood before the Wizengamot pretending like he didn’t give a shit about any verdict they reached. When she had been called into the room to testify, she could tell by the look on his face as their eyes met that he thought she was there to testify against him. There had been fear in that face, fear and acceptance, as though her presence had as good as sealed his fate. The mask had slipped back on, and she had seen the tortured boy she had attended school with for six years staring back at her, ready for his sentence. 

When she had pulled out her long piece of parchment, cleared her throat, and began on an impassioned speech about forgiveness, brainwashing, and purebloods’ antiquated notions manifesting in familial coercion and threats of abuse, only his eyes had changed. They had widened disbelievingly, shooting up from their fixed stare at the ground to lock on to her face; they never left as she fought for his freedom, though they twitched several times during her account of her night at Malfoy Manor. He had worked for the Ministry ever since as part of his probation and the mask had slowly, ever so slowly, been employed less frequently in Hermione’s presence until she had almost forgotten its effect.

But now, here it was in full force and she had no idea what he was thinking.

“Draco,” she tried again, clearing her throat, which had tightened suddenly without her permission. “I-I’m-”

“Spit it out, Granger. I don’t have all day.”

She bit her lip hard, the pain grounding her so that she could meet his pointed stare. Her voice wavered slightly, as she said, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that it’s me. I’m sure it’s not going to be…easy for y-”

“Granger,” he interrupted sharply. “It’s fine.” They stared at each other for a long moment and Hermione desperately wanted his to say something -anything- else. He swallowed and said softly, “It’s fine.”

She couldn’t help the disappointment she felt as she gave a curt nod and turned back to her own fictitious file shuffling. Of course she hadn’t expected any overtures of excitement or pledges of love, but she had been hoping for something more assuring than a lukewarm ‘fine’. Her eyes felt prickly and she mentally scolded herself. Of course he wasn’t thrilled, but he also didn’t hate her the way he used to. A 93% match had to count for something, didn’t it? Perhaps their magic knew something they didn’t know yet. 

She sniffed just once, softly, just so that the wetness would stop tickling the inside of her nose, but she caught the way his body tensed out of the corner of her eye and mentally groaned at how hyperaware of him she was today. 

The clock read 8:57. How the hell was she ever going to make it until 4:15?

Draco cleared his throat and stood suddenly, pushing his chair back with a squeal. Hermione jumped, but kept her eyes firmly on the file in front of her, watching as he straightened himself out and began to make his way around the desk. “I have a meeting. Don’t know when I’ll be back.”

He was already to the door, wrenching it open before she could say, “Okay.”

She had attempted a tone somewhere between cheerful and unconcerned, but the noise that came out of her mouth wobbled and practically howled her uncertainty to the man now hesitating in the doorway. He looked back at her, the heroine of the wizarding world, surrounded by mountains of files and a halo of brown curls and realized in that moment how small and concerned she really was. The mask stayed where it was, but his eyes softened slightly and he said, “It’s more than fine, Granger. I’m just sorry that it’s me.”

And then he was gone. Hermione sat back in her chair with a thump, releasing the breath she’d been holding since she had arrived. Aaaaaand cue the overanalyzing. What the bloody hell had he meant? A small wisp of hope curled low in her belly, but she pushed it away. It mildly irritated her that it was not more of a round number, like a 95. What did one have to do to get 100? “Right then,” she announced to the room. “Let’s just make it to four, Hermione. Let’s start with that.”

* * *

Draco hadn’t returned by lunch, which was worrisome, but Hermione refused to allow herself more than ten minutes to obsessively stare at his empty desk and wonder where he was. She momentarily feared that he might have gone to Kingsley, vowing to become a muggle before he would be matched with Hermione, break his wand and run away, but that seemed a bit extreme and operatic for Malfoy’s taste. 

She ate lunch at her desk and watched as the minutes ticked by agonizingly slowly, first one o’clock, then two, then three. She had managed exactly zero work today. She wondered if Malfoy was out looking for a Time Turner so that he could go back in time and stop the match. Half-past three came and went, and Hermione abandoned the work she had been trying to use to distract herself. Her fingers began drumming on her desk. Should she wait for him? Should she go to St. Mungo’s by herself? The Ministry correspondence had indicated that their tests would be undergone together, so she had just assumed that they would floo from work…together. What if he left without her? What if he didn’t show up?

He liked to arrive right on time to appointments and fashionably late to events. 

She was compulsively early to everything.

How long should she wait before she left for their appointment? Four o’ clock exactly? Four-oh-five? Anything later would be a travesty in her book.

She stood up to pace and then sat back down. It wouldn’t do for him to come back and find her stress-pacing. He’d think she was upset with the match. Was _he_ upset with the match? His parting comment of “It’s more than fine, Granger. I’m just sorry that it’s me,” had already given her over an hour and a half of analyzing material, but since she still had a few more minutes before she would allow herself to resume panicking, she revisited the comment once more. Tone, possible intention, prosody, the use of the word ‘just’, and most definitely the use of ‘more than fine’ were all trotted out again on an infinite loop as her brain struggled to find all the possibilities so that she could be prepared for any outcome.

Could she borrow a Ministry pensieve? Maybe she should re-watch it for clarity and research purposes….

The door swung open at exactly four o’ clock and Draco strolled back through. He had the decency to glance her way and shrug, as though that was the applicable answer for all her unanswered questions. “Got tied up,” was all he said. He gathered his coat from the back of the chair and peeked at Hermione, who had yet to move since he had entered the room. “I’m surprised you’re not already at St. Mungo’s.”

“I was-” _waiting for you_ “caught up with uh, something.”

He nodded stiffly, watching as she stood and braced herself with her fingertips against the desk for a moment before gathering up her things. When she seemed ready, he unnecessarily asked, “Ready?” and then winced.

She nodded. “Ready.” Merlin, could this be any more awkward? She looked at the door leading out into the main office and hesitated. “Should we apparate?”

Draco shook his head. “Let’s get it over with. The sooner they know, the sooner they’ll fuck off out of our business.”

She followed him out of the office to the floo, acutely aware that all eyes were on them and whispers were already beginning as they called out “St. Mungo’s” and followed each other through the floo.

* * *

Draco was screaming. His cheeks were red, eyes wide and shining with humiliation and fury. “YOU HAVE NO FUCKING RIGHT!” he yelled again, fighting against the sticking charm the Auror had cast on him, sticking him to his chair. “THEY’RE NOT YOURS! YOU HAVE NO FUCKING RIGHT!”

“Mr. Malfoy, please!” the healer begged repeatedly, attempting to be heard over his howl. “The Ministry requires this step of the process!”

“I don’t give a shit what your fucking Ministry wants!” Draco snarled. “They’re not yours! You can’t take them!”

“Stop! Please!” Hermione begged, feeling the panic and bile bubble up in her throat as she struggled against her own sticking charm. “I don’t want them! Please! There has to be a better way than this!"

Had it really only been ten minutes since they entered the room for their appointment? Time seemed to have frozen, the temperature had skyrocketed, and Hermione was sure that Draco was going to have a heart attack at any moment. When the healer had invited them in and acknowledged the Auror standing quietly in the corner of the room for ‘Ministry compliance’, Hermione hadn’t batted an eye. When the healer had given her a potion, handed one to Draco, and asked them to drink, she had said it was a potion to be used during their test. Draco had sniffed at it, trying to suss out its intent and had opened his mouth to inquire, but the healer was already bustling around getting Hermione situated in a chair and so he had swallowed it with a scowl. 

“Please have a seat, Mr. Malfoy,” the healer had asked, moving him to the chair across from Hermione. Something felt wrong. Not bad, but something was definitely wrong.

“What was that potion?” he had asked. The taste on his tongue was bitter and tasted nothing like the Calming Draught, though their colors were nearly identical. 

The healer had pressed her lips together, cast a nervous glance at the Auror, and cleared her throat. “I’m supposed to read this notice from the Ministry to you both,” she said instead.

“What was the potion?” Draco pressed.

The healer had looked up from the notice, a piece of parchment she had probably memorized by now, and sighed. “It’s a magical suppressant potion, Mr. Malfoy. The second phase of Ministry testing is to make sure that each match understands why they have been paired together. Because of this, the Ministry has authorized the harvest of certain memories-”

And then all hell had broken loose.

Draco had tried to jump up from his seat, only to find that the Auror had already cast sticking charms to both of their seats and Hermione saw pure panic flash across his face as his eyes met hers. He was swearing and demanding that the Auror release him immediately, the perfect facade he had cultivated over the years slipping away with the loss of his control and magic. Hermione thought she knew exactly why he was screaming. He was a skilled Occlumens; it had saved his life more than once. He wouldn’t know how to function without it. And now the Ministry had taken it away from him against his will.

Hermione felt her throat squeeze up and her breath begin to come in small pants, even as she tried to ground herself to no avail. She hadn’t had a panic attack in several months, but all her defenses had been stripped in a matter of seconds and the restraints sent her mind hurtling back to some of the worst moments of the war. She gasped, and black spots danced in front of her eyes. Her stomach rolled. She was going to be sick in front of these strangers and Malfoy.

Draco had caught sight of her distress and had stopped yelling to call her name. “Granger,” he called again. When she didn’t answer, he said more urgently, “Hermione. Look at me.” Her eyes snapped back up to him, letting herself find her ground in his stormy grey eyes. She imagined a seaport, with pretty little boats bobbing along on the water and the sky painted the same color as Draco’s eyes. Dark, promising a storm, but not just yet.

“I’m okay,” she said softly. “I’m okay. But is this restraint really necessary? Please, I can’t imagine that most people would feel comfortable with being restrained while you’ve taken their magic from them.” 

“The restraints will be lifted as soon as I am able to explain and execute the process to you and Mr. Malfoy,” the healer promised. “I, for one, am not pleased with the order in which the Ministry has seen fit to order this process. You’re certainly not the first couple today to feel unsafe with these methods, considering your involvement in the recent war. I can, however, assure you that the process is not intended to hurt you.” Draco opened his mouth to resume his tirade, but the healer held up her hand. “Please, Mr. Malfoy, I don’t want to have to Silence you as well.”

Draco glowered. He glanced back at Hermione and found her taking deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth. She gave him a comforting smile, the kind that promised him that they were in this together. “Say what you have to say,” he groused.

“The Ministry has authorized the harvest of certain memories pertinent to you and your match so that you may enter your bonding ceremony with a bit more awareness of each other. Because of this, and in an effort to retain transparency, the suppressant potion will allow you both to relax while the memories are found. You will each view the other’s memories in our pensieves before you leave, and you will then be approved for the bonding ceremony.”

Draco snorted and glared at the Auror in the corner. “And you’re the one who’s going to do it?” he asked. Hermione hadn’t heard the full darkness in his tone since sixth year. 

The Auror nodded stiffly, his eyes never leaving Draco’s. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Draco would have hexed him or killed him on the spot given half a chance.

“Is that your real face?” Draco asked.

The Auror shook his head.

“Didn’t think so. Can’t imagine you’ll be a very popular bloke by the end of the week. I don’t want some random lemming from the Ministry poking around in my head,” Draco said. “Not again.” He was thinking of his trial. 

“And that is why, Mr. Malfoy, you will be looking at Miss Granger during the process,” the healer explained. “Only memories pertaining to her will be used. The rest of your mind will remain private under patient confidentiality.”

“Confidentiality,” he snorted. 

Hermione had to agree with the bitterness she heard in Draco’s voice. She shivered as she realized that he was going to see how much she fancied him. She tried not to think about any specific moment, knowing that such thoughts would be like screaming, neon signs for the Auror when he entered her mind. She made a mental note to send Kingsley a howler at her earliest possible opportunity, no doubt one of many he would receive after this step in the process.

“The utmost,” the healer promised. “Now, we’re very behind, so may we please begin? We can start with Miss Granger if you’d like?”

The Auror stepped forward and Hermione and Draco both tensed. “Please look at your match, Miss Granger,” he said in a steady voice. “I will only look for memories related to your match.” Hermione nodded and met Draco’s stare for the second time as the Auror whispered, “ _Legilimens_."

_And then she was twelve years old, being called a mudblood for the first time._

_…..._

_She was thirteen and punching Draco in the face._

_…..._

_She was seventeen, screaming and writhing on the floor of the manor, and he was watching._

_…..._

_She was eighteen and testifying for him at his trial._

_…..._

And then he found it.

_…..._

_The girls were barely eighteen and twenty years old and cocooned in blankets near the fire in the Burrow’s living room. Sweets, crisps, and wine bottles were spread out around their little nest, and the giggles had been steadily increasing along with the inebriation. Ginny was alternating between laughing and gasping, the wine in her glass dangerously close to splashing over the rim. “No!” she giggled. “And then what did you do?”_

_“Oh I spelled all of his quills to snap in half any time he tried to write something,’ Hermione laughed. “He was furious, but he couldn’t prove it was me, so he had to use one of my pens. You should’ve seen his face when he didn’t have to use an ink pot! That’s what he gets for being a prat about my hair every chance he gets.”_

_Ginny abandoned her wine and fell backwards into the blankets with a sigh. “Draco Malfoy. Working at the Ministry and using muggle pens. Never thought I’d see the day.”_

_“It’s part of his probation.” And it was definitely the wine that made her add, “He’s doing a really good job, actually.”_

_Ginny’s eyes snapped open and she immediately caught the blush rising up on Hermione’s cheeks. “Is he still fit as ever?” she asked impishly, causing Hermione to choke on her wine in surprise. “Hermione Jean Granger, don’t tell me you have a crush on that bully!”_

_Hermione pressed her lips together and became very interested in picking at stray threads on her blanket. “It’s nothing,” she insisted. “It’s just…he’s different.”_

_“Meaning?”_

_Hermione groaned. “Oh Gin, I can’t explain it! I mean, he’s still an arrogant prat most of the time, but he thanked me for testifying at him trial and he asked me to forgive him for everything that’s happened.” She looked thoughtful as she sucked on a Sugar Quill. “That couldn’t have been easy for him to do. Right?”_

_Ginny shrugged. “Maybe he’s trying to make up for the past? But do you think he means it? He’s been a git for so many years.”_

_Hermione shrugged. “He seemed genuine. He insulted me afterward, of course, but it’s nothing as mean as it used to be. I think he’s actually trying to-” she stopped talking._

_Ginny leaned forward eagerly. “What?” Hermione shook her head and blushed again. “Hermione, what?!”_

_“I think he’s um, trying to joke with me,” she admitted. “I just don’t think he knows how to do it without being a bit insulting.”_

_Ginny reached for her wine glass and took a sip thoughtfully. “Boy likes girl, boy pulls her hair to get her to notice him. The age-old wooing pattern for the immature. Watch yourself, though. You’re a strong, grown-ass woman, but I don’t want him breaking your heart.”_

_Hermione bit her lip and sighed. “It doesn’t matter anyway. He might have changed during the war, but he won’t look at me that way.” When Ginny opened her mouth to respond, Hermione rushed to add, “Plus, Ron, he…well if I can’t with Ron, I don’t think I’ll be able to with anyone else, especially not the Slytherin Sex God.” She laughed, trying to play it off as a joke, but Ginny saw right through her._

_“Mione, you can’t blame yourself for what Ron said-”_

_…..._

And then he found what Ron said.

_…..._

_“Mione, I can’t take this anymore! You won’t let me even touch you!”_

_Hermione, nineteen going on twenty, scrambled up from under the covers, pressing herself against Ron’s headboard. Her hands trembled against the duvet as she watched Ron stomp around the room, clad only in his pants. “I’m trying,” she whispered, attempting to push back the tears. “Ron, it-it hurts.”_

_“You won’t relax!” Ron growled. “It wouldn’t hurt if you’d just relax and stop being so frigid.”_

_“I’m not frigid! I’m trying!”_

_“Well you’re not trying very hard! I’ve seen you solve any problem in the fucking world when you want to, so don’t pretend like this isn’t something you can’t fix if you really, really wanted to!” Hermione looked like he had slapped her. Ron clenched his fists angrily. He took a deep breath and then his shoulders slumped. “Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this.”_

_“What?”_

_“Maybe we should break up. I mean, this isn’t what either of us really want-”_

_“But I do!” Hermione gasped. “I do want you! Ron, I l-love you, I just need more time.”_

_He looked so sad as he shook his head and made his way back to the bed. “You haven’t really wanted me for a while, Hermione. You spend all your time at work like you’re trying to get away from me and then when I try to be with you, you pull away.” He rubbed at his face angrily and mumbled. “Bloody hell, you don’t even get wet anymore, not that you were all that wet to begin with. It’s not my fault your insides don’t work properly.”_

_Her face flamed and she felt hot tears coming unbidden. “How could you say something like that to me? You know what the healers said.” Her voice was so small._

_…..._

And if that memory wasn’t humiliating enough, he found what the healer said.

_…..._

_“I understand your concerns, Miss Granger, but I assure you that there is nothing wrong with any of your organs, including your reproductive system.” The healer was standing above her, running diagnostic tests with an efficiency that spoke of many years of practice. It was also clear that she had extensive practice not looking at her patients so they could blush in peace._

_“But I’m having trouble, um,” Hermione stuttered, suddenly annoyed with herself. For Merlin’s sake, she could take on Death Eaters and Voldemort, but she couldn’t say orgasm?_

_“Attaining a state of arousal, yes,” the healer said with a nod. “The damage done by the continued and excessive use of the Cruciatus Curse is, as I’m sure you’re aware, psychological.” Hermione nodded. “This means that the curse attacks your nervous system and simulates excruciating pain. Continuous use of such a curse can sometimes result in nerve damage and insanity.”_

_Hermione thought of the Longbottoms and nodded again. “So it’s damaged my nerves and that’s why I can’t feel anything?”_

_The healer frowned. “Can’t you? The nerve damage is not extensive enough to cause complete desensitization. Your nerves are scratched, if you will, not broken. With patience and the right partner, I have no doubt that you will be able to regain a perfectly normal sex life. Have you been at all successful stimulating yourself?” Hermione looked mortified and the healer quickly explained, “I only ask because if you have, you should hold on to whatever it was that stimulated you-”_

_…..._

_The memory rippled out of focus and was replaced with a memory from the week before, only two months after Draco had begun to work in her department at the Ministry. She was lying in complete darkness, alone, and her fingers were working furiously under the blanket as she bit down on her bottom lip to hold in a moan. She hadn’t felt anything like this after her night at the Manor and she was terrified to lose the sensation, small as it was. She rubbed harder, almost painfully, already feeling it slip away from her frenzied desperation, and his name accidentally fell from her lips._

_“Draco.”_

_…..._

“Please don’t,” she whispered, and the Auror pulled his wand away from her temple, siphoning the memories into a large vial. Draco was watching her curiously and she found that she couldn’t meet his gaze any longer. She would never have told him about those moments. She would have pretended like their marriage had sparked new feelings for him so that she wouldn’t scare him off by her attachment. 

She knew him well enough to know that as soon as he was allowed to leave this room, he was going to run.

“Those weren’t all about Draco,” she said softly, another traitorous blush staining her cheeks. Draco raised a questioning eyebrow.

“They were interconnected memories related to the ones about him. And because they directly affect your future match, they were included,” the Auror said with a shrug, setting the vial on the counter and turned to approach Draco, who tensed and threw him another petrifying glare that could have put the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets to shame.

“Please look at your match, Mr. Malfoy,” he repeated in the same steady voice. “I will only look for memories related to your match.” 

“Yeah yeah,” Draco muttered. “It’s not like I have much of a choice, do I?” He sounded bored, but Hermione could hear the slight fear in his words and see the terror in his eyes as he looked directly at her for a split second before the Auror invaded his mind.

It was a strange feeling, maintaining eye contact with someone who was thinking about you, but not seeing you. Draco’s face had slipped its emotionless mask on, but Hermione could still see small twitches in his eyes and ticks in his jaw that spoke volumes about his current feelings. While Hermione had felt that this method was highly invasive and embarrassing, she could only imagine the betrayal and horror Draco was feeling. His greatest weapon, Occlumency, rendered completely and utterly useless.

His cheeks reddened and his breathing became shorter. A growl rose up in his throat and his head snapped back like he was trying to eject the Auror from his mind. “Stop!” he gasped, but he was powerless to do anything more than tighten his hands into fists and pull at the sticking charm.

Moments later, the Auror removed the memories and tipped them into a vial, stopping them and placing them on the counter next to Hermione’s. The rage she saw in Draco’s eyes as he glared at the Auror put her on edge. What had he seen that Draco didn’t want her to know about? The Auror didn’t seem upset, just ready for a confrontation. Could she assume that meant that Draco didn’t plan to harm her, despite how angry he looked at those memories? Or that he didn’t hate her?

The Auror waved his wand and lifted what appeared to be a Disillusionment Charm on two small bowls, which Hermione immediately realized were miniature pensieves. The healer sighed and said, “We will now remove the sticking charms and leave you two to watch the memories. The door has been spelled to remain locked until you finish and you may not view your own memories. The suppressant will wear off in another ten minutes or so, however there are anti-apparation wards for patients around these rooms.” She glanced down at the parchment where her Ministry script resided. “Upon completion of this process, you will be eligible for a bonding ceremony, which you must complete within three days. Any questions?”

Neither answered. Draco wouldn’t look at Hermione.

“Very well,” the healer said, picking up her papers. “I do apologize for the stress today has caused, but I have been assured by the Ministry that this is far less painful for you in the long run. I wish you both the greatest of happiness.” She nodded to the Auror and then disapparated.

The Auror lifted the sticking charms and was gone before Draco could lunge out of his chair…and then they were alone.

The tension was so thick. Hermione thought the walls were going to start closing in around her at any moment. Draco still wouldn’t look at her, but she saw his body shift towards hers as her anxious breathing picked up again. “Right,” she gasped. “Let’s get this over with.”

Draco’s mouth pressed into a grim line and he reached for his wand to apparate out. Nothing. He strode to the door and muttered a curse when the handle shocked him and refused to turn. Clearly the suppressant and the wards were very real. He looked over his shoulder at Hermione, who was already standing next to her pensieve, memories in hand. She held hers out to him with a wobbly smile, promising him without words that she felt the same way about this whole mess, but that she was willingly giving him her memories anyways. Something passed over his face as he took her in and then he muttered, “Fine.”

‘Fine’ seemed to be his word of the day.

They tipped each other’s memories into the pensieves and with one last look, they allowed themselves to dive into the other’s past.

_…..._

_He looked so tiny sitting there in his Slytherin robes, a massive feast set before him on the equally massive dining room table. Hermione tensed as she followed his happy glances toward the head of the table where Lucius Malfoy sat, casually eating breakfast like he wasn’t one of the worst human beings on the planet. She had to fight to remind herself that Lucius Malfoy was now a shell of the man that sat before her, rotting away in Azkaban for life. Her gaze flickered over to Narcissa Malfoy, but she tried not to let her gaze linger. Saved from Azkaban by Harry’s testimony, Narcissa had only lasted three months on house arrest before she was brutally murdered while Draco was in France on assignment. Lucius had cackled inconsolably upon hearing the news, but no substantial evidence could be found to confirm a hit order. Draco hadn’t showed up to work for two days and when he did finally return, he had looked rumpled and exhausted._

_Hermione had offered her sympathy and a listening ear. Draco acknowledged neither._

_She tuned back into the conversation. “And what of your lessons?” Lucius was asking. “Severus tells me that you are not top of the class.” The tree in the corner of the room told Hermione that this would have been while Draco was home from Hogwarts for his first Christmas hols._

_Draco was in the middle of a particularly large bite of sausage and he blushed but did not seem terribly unhappy. “I’m second, father,” he said after he had finished chewing. “There’s a girl in our year who’s absolutely brilliant. She’s first in everything.”_

_“Draco, that’s no excuse,” his father hissed. “How many times have I told you that Malfoy’s never come second in anything! And to a girl! Who is she?”_

_Draco stilled. The calm atmosphere shifted. He stared at his plate for a long moment and said softly, “Hermione Granger.”_

_His mother raised her head. “Of the Dagworth-Grangers?”_

_Draco shook his head. “She- she isn’t a pureblood.”_

_His mother sat back in her chair and sniffed. “Oh my. A half-blood has beaten our son, Lucius.”_

_Something in Draco’s face flickered; he hadn’t yet learned to fully mask his emotions. “Is she a half-blood, Draco?” Lucius inquired knowingly._

_Hermione watched as Draco’s eye twitched and his fists curled on his lap under the table. He took a deep breath and met his father’s gaze dead on. “No. She’s a muggleborn, but father she’s different than you said. She’s so clever and I have no idea why she’s hanging around with Pot-”_

_Draco let out a sharp cry as he was thrown out of his chair into the wall. Hermione backpedaled as Lucius rose from his own chair, wand gripped tight in rage. Narcissa sat frozen for a moment, but then picked up her teacup and murmured, “Lucius, try not to be too hard on him.”_

_Lucius stalked toward his son, who was currently scrambling up on his feet and backhanded him across the face. “You are a Malfoy,” he hissed as Draco sank back to the floor and whimpered. “You are never to associate with anyone so vile, so beneath you as a Mudblood. What if she had stolen your magic? What if she breeds and her filth steals your child’s magic? Mudbloods have no place in our world, Draco. Get up!”_

_Draco trembled, bright red blood pooling at the corner of his mouth as he struggled to stand up in the small space between his father and the wall. “I’m sorry, father. You’re right.” Something in his tone told Hermione that he had said this several times in his life already._

_Lucius knew it too. He sneered down at his son and took a step back. “Of course I am. And you won’t forget this lesson so easily.” He lifted his wand._

_“Lucius, please,” Narcissa said softly. “He’s young. He won’t forget again.”_

_“No,” Lucius agreed. “No, he won’t. Crucio!”_

_Hermione gasped as Draco began to scream, collapsing to the ground, eyes wide with shock and terror. His little body curled in on itself and his screams bounced around the large dining room. Narcissa had her eyes closed and her head turned away, the teacup in her hand shaking ever so slightly, but she didn’t say a word. “Crucio!” Lucius screamed again._

_Hermione could feel the tears in her eyes now as they dripped down her face and neck, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Draco. “No,” she heard herself whisper, but no one payed any attention to her._

_“What is she?” Lucius yelled as his son writhed in front of him._

_“A m-m-mudblood,” Draco gasped, eyes squeezed tight._

_“And do Malfoys associate with mudbloods?”_

_“No.”_

_“Do Malfoys let mudbloods beat them at anything?”_

_“N-no.”_

_Lucius clicked his tongue. “Tsk tsk, Draco. You hesitated. Crucio!”_

_“Lucius!” Narcissa spat sharply. “That’s enough! He’s eleven!”_

_He ignored her, but removed the curse. A dark patch had puddled around Draco’s trousers as his little bladder had given up, and Lucius sneered at him. “You’re pathetic, Draco. You’re going to have to be much stronger than this if you ever hope to make me proud and carry on the Malfoy name.” He snapped his fingers. “Dobby!”_

_Hermione felt her heart clench as Dobby appeared with a sharp crack and she drank in the sight of him while she had the chance. “Yes, master?”_

_“Take Draco up to his room and clean him up. He may return when he is ready to be a pureblooded wizard.”_

_…..._

_Draco was flipping through a book in Flourish and Blott’s, ignoring the crush of people buying schoolbooks and waiting in line for signed copies of Gilderoy Lockheart’s latest book. Hermione saw herself, Ron, and Harry enter the shop and turned to watch Draco’s reaction. He stared at her openly for a moment before blinking and twisting his face into a scowl. He was still paging through the book and Hermione stepped closer to him, trying to figure out why this was an important memory. They hadn’t even talked that day, if her memory served her right._

_Her eyebrows raised as she realized that the book was **Most Macabre Monstrosities**. He’s reading about basilisks. She watched as his gaze flitted to and fro, perhaps keeping an eye out for his father, before he tore the page out of the book and stuffed it in his pocket. Her jaw dropped as the pieces fall together. That page would end up in her bookbag in a few months, causing her to rush to the library to confirm, before she would then be petrified by the basilisk._

_…..._

_He calls her a mudblood for the first time._

_......_

_She watches herself fly at Draco, punching him squarely in the nose before he turns and runs away._

_…..._ _  
_

_The scene changes abruptly and the fog of sudden steam confuses her. Hermione whips her head around to determine her location. Her best guess is that she is in the changing rooms for the Quidditch teams. A moan to her right pulls her focus and she is staring at a wet, naked Draco with blood still dripping down his nose and his fist tight around his cock. A sharp bolt of desire rips through her, even as she feels a bit slimy watching thirteen-year-old Draco pump himself._

_What the hell is she doing here?_

_His forehead is pressed against the wall with one arm braced against the tiles and the water pouring down on him. He groans again, his hand moving faster and faster along his length. His hips stutter and buck into his fist and just as he groans her name softly, the hand on the wall reaches up and twists his nose back into place with a small crunch. He hisses and comes against the tiles, gasping, “Fuck! Hermione, fuck.”_

_…..._

_She’s still in shock as the memory whirls and she watches herself dance with Krum._

_…..._

_She sees a sixteen-year-old Draco lounging in what she assumes is the Slytherin common room, Pansy sultrily draped across his lap. Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, and Nott are all gathered around and it is clear by their discarded ties, unbuttoned shirts, and empty bottles of firewhiskey that they are sloshed._

_“…says we can have all the mudblood bitches we want,” Crabbe is saying gleefully._

_Zabini, ever cool and collected, raises an eyebrow. “Why would you want to get your hands dirty with mudbloods, Crabbe?”_

_The boy shrugs, glancing over at Pansy for the briefest of moments before he says, “They’re dirty, but that just means we don’t have to apologize after we fuck ‘em.”_

_The boys are murmuring in agreement, but Draco is staring at the fireplace, not particularly engaged. Not until, that is, Nott says, “I wonder who will get mudblood Granger.” Draco doesn’t move a muscle, but he suddenly looks tense. After a long moment, one filled with disgusting, male laughter, he slowly turns his head and fixes Nott with a stare._

_“What do you mean, Nott?” he asks, showing as much emotion as a marble statue._

_The laughter dies off and Nott looks uncomfortable. “I-I don’t-”_

_“Who else would get Granger but me?” Draco’s eyes look like they could bore holes into Nott’s thick skull without much effort. “That bitch has been nothing but a pain in my ass for six years. I think it’s about time I’m a pain in hers.” His grin is sickening, but the boys guffaw appropriately. Pansy humphs and her claws move over Draco’s upper thigh to dip down and brush against the zipper of his trousers. He smirks at her and strokes her hair, then his face hardens as he looks at each of his friends and says, “When the Dark Lord is victorious, my cock will be the only one Granger ever sees if I haven’t killed her first. Until then, no one touches her but me. Do I make myself clear?”_

_Choruses of “Yes, Draco,” “Of course, Malfoy,” echo through the common room and the talk turns from mudbloods to Ginny Weasley, the Patil twins, and that one Hufflepuff with the huge tits, but Hermione isn’t listening. She is watching as Draco’s focus returns to the fireplace and he blinks slowly._

_…..._

_Her screams scare her as the darkness of the Manor rapidly blinds her vision. Her fingers tense against the pensieve as she hears Bellatrix’s screeching voice screaming at her in between curses. Her stomach lurches and her forearm feels hot as phantom pain shoots up her arm, but she forces herself to find Draco. Something about this moment must be important._

_Bellatrix is screaming._

_She is screaming._

_“Crucio! Crucio! Crucio!”_

_Draco’s face is ashen, tight with what she had hazily assumed at the time was discomfort over the torture of a classmate and disliked acquaintance. But this Hermione is standing close enough to him that she hears his breathy whisper the moment Bellatrix’s back is turned, even over the sound of her own screams. “_ Conjunctionis Ligavaris _.”_

_Immediately, he stiffens, letting out the smallest of breaths through his nose, like someone has pinched him. Hermione hears herself on the floor sobbing, but no longer screaming. Bellatrix continues to torture her, but Draco never takes his eyes off of her, staring at her body with the utmost concentration, though he forces the rest of his tall frame to look as loose and as removed as possible._

_The light from the fire sparkles off of a solitary bead of sweat as it forms on his brow._

_The chandelier falls._

_…..._

_She sees herself as he apologizes that day at the Ministry, watches her own face soften as she accepts his apology and his thanks._

_…..._

_A door opens and Draco is striding into Kingsley’s office with a hard, determined look on his face. He’s wearing the same clothes he’s currently wearing, and Hermione realizes that this must be the meeting he attended this morning. Kingsley, for his part, looks up warily, his shoulders tense and ready for a fight._

_She assumes Draco is not his first appointment of the day, regardless of the early hour._

_“Mr. Malfoy,” he greets._

_Draco barely nods. “Minister,” he grinds out._

_“How can I help you?”_

_“I want to pay the fine.” Hermione blinks. Kingsley blinks. Draco stares him down, unblinking._

_“You want to pay the fine,” Kingsley parrots, disbelief clear in his voice._

_Draco looks annoyed now and pulls a piece of parchment out of his pocket, setting it on the desk. Hermione and Kingsley both look down to see that it is his match letter. “Yes, the fine for failure to produce children within the Ministry’s time frame,” he says slowly, like Kingsley is a child. “I would like to pay it.”_

_Kingsley scans the letter for a moment and sits back in his chair, collecting himself. “Mr. Malfoy, please help me understand. I was under the impression that your views on blood purity have changed.”_

_“They have.”_

_“So why this request?” He looks down at the parchment. “93%. You and Miss Granger have one of the highest matches we’ve recorded throughout this whole process. Why do you not want to be married to her?”_

_Draco’s jaw ticks and he looks like he would rather pull his own teeth out by hand than answer the question. “I do want to be married to her. But I still want to pay the fine.”_

_“Is there an issue with your children being half-bloods?” Kingsley inquires._

_Draco shakes his head but does not answer._

_“Mr. Malfoy, you’re going to have to give me something more than this. I do not understand your reasoning, nor will I approve any payments without an explanation.”_

_“Miss Granger does not have good memories of me,” Draco begins, his jaw tightening. “I am an ex-Death Eater who tortured her during school. While that is not the full story, she thinks it is. We’ve just begun to work together amicably and I will not ruin this progress by forcing her to have my children before she can stand me.” He swallows hard and looks down, breaking eye contact with Kingsley for the first time. “I would very much like to marry Granger, but I will not force her. And I highly doubt that eighteen months is enough time for me to atone for my past.”_

_Kingsley is quiet, watching Draco closely. “I remember your trial,” he finally says. “We did not make that evidence public, per your request, but that’s what convinced me that this was a good match, though core magic doesn’t lie either.”_

_Draco nods. “But that night is just one of the many reasons I need more time.” He grimaces, and Hermione cannot look away from his face. She is sure that this moment is as close to begging as a Malfoy will ever come._

_“The fine is two hundred thousand galleons,” Kingsley finally says, as though this will deter him._

_Draco calculates for a moment and then nods. “Very well.”_

_Hermione’s eyes widen and her jaw drops. Two hundred thousand galleons! He would have to sell at least one of the Malfoy properties for that sum. That’s more money than she can imagine all in one place._

_Kingsley taps his fingertips together and finally sighs. “I will allow this only because it is Miss Granger and she has done more than her fair share for us in the last few years, though I think your worries are unfounded.”_

_Draco shrugs; he knows they’re not. “I need time to liquidate that much. When should I bring it?”_

_Kingsley waves him off impatiently. “I’ll send a promissory contract to your office. Take the eighteen months. If you need more time, you’ll pay then.” Draco looks like he’s about to rebut, however something in Kingsley’s look stops him and when he is dismissed, he leaves with a small nod and thanks. Kingsley knows that in a matter of hours, Hermione will know anyway._

......

Hermione is ejected from the pensieve with a gasp, licking her lips as she tastes her tears for the first time. Her eyes are wide and she looks around the room, but Draco is nowhere to be found.

* * *

An owl tapped on her window late that evening, after she’d already curled up in bed, and she rushed to let it in. “Thank you,” she said to the owl, who took off immediately, apparently not requiring an answer. Her fingers shook as she unrolled the parchment.

_Hermione,_

_I didn’t handle this afternoon well and I’m very sorry for not staying until you had finished with my memories. It was too much. I hope that the memories you saw have not worsened your opinion of me._

_We are approved for the bonding ceremony between now and Thursday. Please let me know when you would like to visit the registrar office. I’ll see you tomorrow at work._

_Draco_

She wouldn’t know for several weeks that Blaise Zabini had actually written it out, read it to Draco for approval, then forced him to sign it. Draco had been too drunk and too scared to write it himself.

* * *

They were bonded the next day on their lunch break. Hermione claimed that it was best to do it early, so that they could move on with their lives. Draco swallowed hard and nodded, not daring to say anything that would ruin his chances before she was bonded as his wife. The ceremony itself was short and rather impersonal, as a large chunk of the wizarding population were all trying to bond at the same time. However, when the official instructed them to turn to each other and clasp hands, Draco and Hermione had both felt a thrum in their magic. 

The bonds swirled around them, fidelity and safety blessings twisting around their wrists like shooting stars. Draco’s eyes met Hermione’s and she was struck by how open he was to her in this moment. His eyes were soft, almost adoring, and he saw something in hers that made his eyes darken with a hint of desire. Just as soon as it had come, however, it was gone, and he was clearing his throat, turning back to the official. “You may kiss if you wish,” the official had told them.

Hermione had started to tip her face up to Draco’s, but he shook his head and stepped away from her. The confusion must have been clear on her face because he whispered, “Not like this,” and squeezed her hand. She didn’t have time to ask him what he meant because he was already holding her hand and pulling her back towards the lifts.

When they tried to return to work, their Department Head shooed them away, telling them to come back the next afternoon. With so many bondings, the couples were not being offered enough time off for a honeymoon, but the rest of the afternoon was the least they could do. They both awkwardly retrieved their things and Draco suggested a small café in muggle London for lunch, further shocking Hermione. “No one will recognize us there,” he said with a shrug.

“Are we going to talk about the memories?” she asked after they had placed their orders.

Draco suddenly became fascinated with twirling the spoon in his tea. His mask slipped on and he leaned back slightly in his seat. “What would you like to talk about?”

_Conjunctionis Ligavaris_. She glanced around at the muggles and realized that unfortunately, now was not the time to bring that up. Clever.

Hermione instead summoned her inner Gryffindor, who rolled its eyes at Draco’s caginess, and reached across the table to rest her hand on top of his. He looked startled and almost pulled away, but his hand remained tense under hers. “I don’t really know where to start,” she admitted, staring at their joined hands so she wouldn’t have to meet his gaze. “I had no idea how influential you were in my life and I-I’m sorry for the pain it has caused you. Thank you for any pain you saved me from, as well.”

She felt his eyes boring into her. The common room claim. The Manor.

“You know it hasn’t been that long for me, but I do care about you,” she went on, barely above a whisper now. “I want to make this work, but I’m going to need a little time-” she caught his tense nod in her peripherals and found the strength to look up and smile at him, “something you have very generously tried to give me.”

He shrugged, like two hundred thousand galleons grew on trees. “It’s nothing,” he protested.

“It’s not nothing,” she insisted. “And I doubt very much that you will have to abide by that contract.” Her cheeks burned at that statement, but she held his gaze to show that she meant it. Eighteen months would be plenty of time.

He swallowed, watching her carefully, before twisting his palm up so he could hold her hand. When she didn’t flinch, only smiled a little brighter, he squeezed her hand and promised, “Whatever you want.”

Their food arrived and Hermione started to pull her hand away, but Draco held it tight, his thumb brushing softly across her knuckles. “Well you say that now, but I wanted a kiss back at the Ministry and you didn’t give me one.” Hermione grinned and cheekily dug into her food, chewing the first bite before glancing up to gauge his reaction.

His eyes were dark again, focused on her mouth before they slowly returned to hers, a smirk finally tugging at the corner of his lips. “Not yet,” was all he said, but Hermione shivered with the promise laced in his words.

She turned bright pink as she peeked at him through her lashes and smirked. “So…that punch, huh?”

He choked on his food.

* * *

The stress of the next week had engulfed them. Draco moved her into his wing of the Manor, offering her one of the guest bedrooms and promising that he would get one of the other properties ready so that they wouldn’t have to stay long. Hermione had nodded, secretly relieved that she wouldn’t be asked to stay in the Manor and had nearly asked him then about that memory. About the spell. But it didn’t seem like the right time, so she had instead pressed up on her toes and kissed his cheek softly, saying, “Surely we can sleep in the same bed, right Mr. Malfoy?”

He had graciously acknowledged the unconscious stress she’d put on the word ‘sleep’ and had grinned down at her. “Of course, Mrs. Malfoy.”

It was the first time he had called her that, and Hermione had grimaced. “Oof, maybe not,” she said with a laugh.

Draco had rolled his eyes and called over his shoulder, “Come on, Granger, come try out my bed.”

Hermione found out that evening that Draco could hide his emotions behind a very convincing mask, he could hide his thoughts behind thick walls, but he couldn’t hide his love of cuddling while asleep. His arm draped over her hip as he pressed his front to her back and tucked her into his embrace. She had tensed at first but eventually melted against him with a small hum, which had caused a similar hum to vibrate through his chest. They had woken up wrapped around each other and Draco had given her a wicked smile before calling his house elf, Nippy, for breakfast.

She told him about her parents.

He still hadn’t kissed her.

* * *

Their first kiss happened that weekend by accident. Hermione had taken a wrong turn somewhere along the route from the sitting room to their bedroom and found herself standing in front of the drawing room doors. She stood there for what felt like hours, eyes fixed on the doors like they might just open by themselves and unleash Bellatrix Lestrange in all her ghostly madness. Eventually, her legs gave out and she slid down to the floor, pressing herself against the opposite wall.

_Conjunctionis Ligaveris_.

“Hermione?” Draco’s voice was soft yet concerned. He walked toward her slowly like he feared startling her. “Are you alright? What are you doing down here?”

Her eyes never left the doors. “Wrong turn,” she murmured. “Just thinking.”

He hesitated, like he didn’t know whether to pull her away from the drawing room as fast as he could, or to stay with her. Eventually, staying won out and he slowly dropped down to the floor with her. They both stared at the doors for a long time, each remembering exactly what had happened that night.

“Would you tell me if I asked?” Hermione asked quietly, though it had sounded so loud in the stillness of the hallway.

Draco took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes.”

“What was that spell? I couldn’t find it in any of the books I looked through.”

He smiled, knowing that she had probably rifled through all the books she could before she would ask him directly. “It’s a binding spell. I found it the year before-” he nodded towards the doors. “It translates to ‘ties that bind’. The magical cores of two people are tied together, which allows them to take on each other’s emotions and feelings.”

“Take on?”

Draco glanced down at his lap, pressing his palms hard against his knees. “Absorb, if necessary.”

Hermione finally managed to tear her gaze away from the doors to look at him. “And was it? Necessary?”

They both knew the answer. “You were so strong that night, but Aunt Bella was too mad. She used the cruciatus too many times in such a short time span and with all the blood loss, I could see you were slipping. I was so scared that she was going to make you go insane. Or kill you.”

“So you took away some of the pain,” Hermione finished for him.

He shrugged. “I was used to it by then. And I wanted you to survive. Hell, I wanted Potter to win. I just wanted the war to be over.”

Hermione stared at her forearm when Bellatrix had carved through her flesh. “The knife?”

Draco’s laugh was hollow as his head thumped back against the wall. “Hurt like a bitch. I nearly passed out. I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop it. I’m sorry I couldn’t take more.”

Hermione didn’t know exactly when it happened, but one moment they were staring into each other’s eyes and the next, she was leaning in to press her lips to his. They both gasped at the contact and his hand came up to rest against her cheek, sliding into her curls as his tongue licked at her lips and pressed into her mouth. A jolt of pleasure raced through her veins as his hand fisted her curls and tugged her head back gently, opening her up to him even more. Her hands trembled as they found the front of his shirt, but a nip from his teeth on her bottom lip had her gasping and pulling the material closer to her.

She groaned when his kisses sped up, tongue lashing over hers in a way that made her heart pound in her ears. His other hand had come up to press gently into her pulse point and she felt him smile against her lips as her rapid pulse jumped beneath his fingertips. His kisses slowed then, becoming increasingly gentle, until they were both barely brushing their lips against each other. When he leaned his forehead against hers to take a shaky breath, Hermione had placed her hand on his knee and whispered, “Thank you for saving my life.” He pressed a kiss to her nose.

A Notice Me Not charm was placed over the hallway after that, and Hermione had let him. Their business with the drawing room was done.

* * *

Now, three months later, she sat by the fireplace in their new home, waiting for him to come home. She’d been waiting for this moment for over a month and the anticipation was killing her. Draco hadn’t stopped kissing her since their first kiss in the hallway, but he had refused all her advances for anything more than a semi-heavy snog. He kissed her often, small presses to her cheeks, nose, temple, and the like, but nothing more ever came of it. One day, after several minutes spent listening to her arguing over one of their cases without allowing him a word in edgewise as he was quite obviously _wrong_ , Draco had stared at her with dark eyes, pupils wide and wanting, and had pushed her up against the wall and stolen her breath. His lips and tongue had stolen all the rest of the words she had planned to say as his hips pressed up against hers for the first time. She could feel him radiating heat against her core. But at the very moment her hands had fumbled with the first button on his shirt, he had pulled away gently and smiled at her.

She knew he was waiting for her to be ready. He had admitted as much when she had asked him why he always stopped kissing, even when it was clear that they both wanted to keep going. “You haven’t had good experiences in the past with the Weasel, which isn’t surprising in the least,” he had told her, ignoring her glare at his dig at Ron. “What he said to you was complete bollocks and I plan to woo you until you’re so crazy in love with me that you spontaneously combust.”

Her gaze now slid to the clock on the wall and noticed that it was nearly ten. He would be back soon from his boys’ night with Blaise and Theo. Her whole body tingled in anticipation of what she hoped would be a long night. She wished she could Obliviate the small voice of doubt that was faintly yowling something about desire and orgasms, though. That would have been nice.

The fireplace roared, causing her eyes to snap up and her focus to sharpen to a pinpoint as her husband stepped through the flames. Doubt, fear, and anxiety would just have to wait. She had better things to do right now.

She waited until his eyes had locked on hers, then she raised her mug up to her lips and took another slow drink.

Show time.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco’s eyes landed on hers as soon as he stepped through and he didn’t bother trying to mask the surprise on his face when he found his wife lounging on one of the chaise lounges, wearing nothing but a green satin slip which reached the top of her knees on a generous day, which today was obviously not, and left very little to the imagination. His eyes raked down her figure, taking in the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips, the legs that went on and on, despite her short stature, all the way down to her bare toes. 

He swallowed and tried to look nonchalant. “Well don’t you look lovely tonight, Granger.” His voice sounded a bit rough even to his own ears. Fuck, she looked delicious. 

Her lips quirked into a smirk that instantly told him that she was up to something. “Yes,” she said. She wore red lipstick that made his cock twitch as he imagined sliding his member between those lips, over her tongue…

Draco tried to busy himself with dusting off some of the floo powder, discreetly moving his outer robes over the erection that was never far away, even when Hermione was fully clothed. Now, though, it was very aware and very interested. He felt his heart begin to pound as he realized that she hadn’t once taken her eyes off of him. She hadn’t even blinked. He started to ask her what the occasion was, or something equally cheeky, but she had other ideas.

She took another drink from the mug in her hand and he watched her throat swallow the liquid, which immediately made Draco think of her swallowing around his cock and he swallowed reflexively. She noticed, and a blush crept up her cheeks, but she slowly set the mug down on the table in front of her and tossed him a small vial. He caught it dazedly, Seeker reflexes coming out to play while his mind was otherwise occupied trying to map the skin above Hermione’s knees.

“Do you know what that is?” Hermione asked him, swinging her feet down to the floor.

He tensed, immediately trying to work out what kind of trick this was. The half-filled vial was clear, like water, and he assumed that he would be unable to find any odor as he removed the stopper. Veritaserum. His adrenaline spiked as he met his wife’s eager gaze and he frantically tried to cast his mind back over the last few months in an attempt to figure out which of his actions could possibly have triggered this event. What secrets did she want him to spill? He could use Occlumency to resist the serum, but he didn’t want to have to lie to her. “Have I given you some reason to doubt me?” he asked.

“No,” Hermione immediately answered. “No, sorry, it’s not for you.” She glanced at her mug, sitting innocently on the table and Draco’s brows pulled together in confusion as he realized that she had used the Veritaserum on herself. What the hell was she thinking?

“I don’t understand,” he said cautiously.

Hermione bit her lip, watching his eyes flit to her mouth and then back up, and took pity on him. Poor little Slytherin, always expecting a trick when she was trying to give him a treat. “Ask me anything you want.”

_Do you love me?_

_Will you ever love me?_

_Are we going to have sex tonight?_

_Can I taste you?_

_Are you happy being my wife?_

“Do you really like the curtains I picked out for the house?”

Hermione’s eyes widened in shock and then she let out a peal of pure laughter. “No,” she gasped out in between giggles. “I hate them. They’re so…ornate. But you seemed to really like them and I wanted to you be happy. I don’t really care about curtains, Draco.” 

Draco’s smile was a mixture of amusement and confusion. “But I thought you’d like them because they’re sodding Gryffindor colors.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “And this is exactly why I wanted to do this. Well, I didn’t think you were going to start asking about the curtains, but I thought we needed to clear some things up.” She nodded toward the vial. “I brewed it myself, you know. Veritaserum is very difficult to find right now, even with friends at the Ministry, but the ingredients aren’t. Had to wait a whole month for this.” She licked her lips, even though they both knew she couldn’t taste anything. “It’s very strong.” She looked down at his fist, which was gripping the vial of Veritaserum hard. “Ask me what I want.”

“What do you want?” he asked huskily.

“I want you to make love to me. Tonight.”

He swallowed hard, his erection jumping against the seam of his trousers. He tried to remember all the reasons they shouldn’t, the reasons he had just used to defend himself when Blaise and Theo told him that she was definitely ready if she was seeking him out to snog the life out of him. The memory of her pained expression as that fucking Weasel told her she needed to relax flashed across his mind.

She was watching his expression carefully. When he opened his mouth to say something, she pressed on. “Ask me if I’m ready.”

“Are you ready?”

She smiled up at him. “So ready.” He started to move toward her, but she held up her hand. “Ask me-” she hesitated. “Ask me what I’m afraid of.”

He frowned. “What are you afraid of?”

She nibbled again on her bottom lip and hesitated for the first time to meet his gaze. “Disappointing you,” she said softly. He started to protest, but she cut him off. “I’ve only had sex three times and all three of those times were very painful, but every time you kiss me, I feel more in those kisses than I ever did during sex. Draco, I want you so much, but I’m afraid that I’m not going to be able to…react the way you want. You saw how angry Ron was-”

“-Fucking prick,” Draco interjected.

“-but what you didn’t see was the fight we had the time before when he complained when I wouldn’t participate.” Her hands fluttered in her lap and she was red from the roots of her hair to the top of her breasts. “I don’t do much because, well, I can’t imagine what would feel good.” 

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Draco practically growled. “And you will never disappoint me. Never.” He ran a hand through his hair, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. “Shit, Hermione, I’ve waited for you for so long. I would wait forever for you if you wanted me to.”

Her heart squeezed at those words and she felt tears beginning, but she pushed them back. Her own voice was deeper and huskier as she shakily stood up, only a few steps away from him, and said softly, “Ask me if I love you.”

He froze.

He stopped breathing.

“Draco, ask me.”

His palms were sweaty. He could tell by the look on her face that she thought she knew the answer, but what if she didn’t? It would wreck him. Better to wait another month, or six, before doing this. “It’s okay. You don’t have to,” he whispered.

Hermione stepped toward him and he automatically mirrored her action, bringing them almost toe to toe. “Ask me,” she insisted. “You need to hear it this way.”

And he realized that he did. He had spent so much of his life secretly wanting the woman who stood before him- his _wife_ \- that now, on the cusp of finally getting everything he wanted but never believed would be possible, he didn’t believe her. It couldn’t be true. “Hermione, the things I’ve done…” His voice was pained.

“Then ask me if I forgive you,” Hermione said.

“Do you forgive me?”

“Yes. Of course I do, you silly man. I spoke at your trial, or have you forgotten?”

He was staring at her upturned face, trying to memorize every dip and facet of her features, for she had never been more beautiful than she was to him in this moment as she gave him a slice of his freedom. “I could never forget. You did homework for me.”

She nodded, the top of her curls bouncing and tickling his chin. “Now ask me, Draco, please. And then take me to bed.”

A long moment of silence stretched out between them, him gazing down at her with swirling pools of grey fear, her meeting his gaze with warm chocolate. Finally, he whispered, “Do you love me?”

Without hesitation, she murmured, “I love you, Draco Malfoy,” and then her lips were on his and he stopped fighting.

She tasted like tea, honey, and sunshine. Draco groaned into her mouth as his arm wrapped around her waist and his other hand slid up to her neck, pressing her as close as he could. His tongue invaded her mouth and she answered his groan, arching into him and pressing her full body against his chest. He took her mouth, pouring the passion and the want he’d been carrying around for nearly a decade into her, and groaned once more as her hands tentatively slid into his hair.

He pulled his mouth away to trail kisses from the corner of her lips, across her cheek, sucking and nipping gently at her earlobe. “Touch me, Hermione,” he whispered, hands roving over her back and the globes of her rear. “Anything you do will be amazing.” He squeezed her bottom as he rolled his hips into her, causing Hermione to gasp and tug at Draco’s hair. He made sure to moan right in her ear as he pressed against her again. 

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured, before licking the shell of her ear and pressing his lips to her neck. He licked and sucked at her pulse point, occasionally biting down just to hear her whimper. Her hands were tracing patterns across his shoulders, her nails accidentally dragging across his skin as she pressing her hand to the back of his neck, holding him there to keep the delicious onslaught of his tongue and teeth _right there_. She whimpered again and the sound went straight to his cock.

His fingers deftly crawled up from her waist to the side of her breast, kneading the flesh there softly, listening as she hummed, smiling as she pressed into his hand. His thumb swiped gently across her nipple, already beginning to harden under the thin barrier of silk, and he swallowed her gasp with his mouth, returning to taste her again. Draco wanted nothing more than to rip this tiny piece of fabric off and bury himself in her until they both couldn’t breathe, but he knew he had to take his time. Don’t overwhelm her. Don’t scare her.

He rolled her nipple between his fingers gently and watched Hermione bite her lip to hold in the noises. Well that certainly wouldn’t do. He pressed his forehead to hers, the fingers that had been pulling at her nipple now cupping her cheek as his other hand began the same process on her other breast. Their eyes locked as he kneaded, circled, pulled. “I want to hear you, Hermione.” He captured her bottom lip and bit down just as he pinched her nipple, causing her to body to jerk. A gasp fell from her lips. His hand fell from her cheek to grip her hip hard, his fist bunched around the satin, now slippery and warm from her body.

“I-” she whispered.

His lips moved back to hers. “What do you want, little love?” he asked, silently praising his delectable wife for her Gryffindor recklessness in taking that Veritaserum. 

Unable to resist the direct question, Hermione blushed. “I want to kiss you too,” she murmured, fingertips running up and down his neck. “But how do I find the right spot?”

“I’ll show you.” Draco dropped his lips to her neck once more, placing light kisses all over her skin until he found that spot that made her arch into him. “Feel that?” he breathed against her skin.

“Yes,” she nodded vigorously.

He laved at the spot, sucking hard and grinning as he felt her hips shift forward to meet his. He ground his cock into her as a reward and she moaned low in her throat. “You’re mine.” He bit down on her neck and sucked again, marking her as his with a love bite.

Her fingers were digging into his biceps tightly as he pulled back from her neck, licking his lips and feeling his whole body react to seeing the red, shimmering skin of her throat. _His_. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that this night was about pleasing her, about making sure that she felt, and felt, and _felt_.

Hermione pressed her lips to the side of his neck and Draco tilted his head to the side to allow her more access. His hands fell to her waist, pulling her in as her lips were featherlight against his skin. She reached his pulse point and his hands tightened against her waist, silently guiding her. Studious as ever, Hermione’s tongue flicked out to taste his skin and he growled low, tipping his head back as she softly sucked at his skin. “Yes,” he groaned. “Just like that.”

She hummed happily and began to suck and lick more fervently. Ron had never been patient with her like this. It had always been rushed, even when they had had all night to explore, it was still a rush and fumble, and then pain and frustration. He didn’t care about foreplay because he didn’t need it. But Draco seemed intent about making good on his promise. He was trying to make her combust. This was exquisite. 

Draco heard her take a small breath before she pressed up higher and nipped at his ear and he rewarded her by slamming his lips back on hers, wrapping his arms around her waist and apparating them into their bedroom with a crack. They both stumbled as they landed and Draco steadied her with a hand on her arm. His eyes were dark and intense as he stared at her like he could see through her to her soul. “Are you okay?” he asked, and Hermione knew he wasn’t asking about the bumpy apparation trip from downstairs.

“Yes.”

He cupped her cheek in his hand, slowly walking them back until they hit the wall. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“God, yes,” she replied, and then blushed when he smirked down at her. Her fingers reached for the buttons on his shirt, but he gripped her hands, brushing soft kisses across her knuckles before pressing both sets of joined hands to the wall next to her head. Her breath hitched and his smirk widened.

“Good.” His lips found the hollow of her throat and he pressed kisses along her clavicle before moving down to lick along the swell of her breasts where the satin met her skin. He could do this forever, his nose pressed against her soft flesh, inhaling her scent like he needed it to breathe. He cupped her breasts through her slip, feeling his cock swell with pride as Hermione’s eyelids fluttered closed and she let her head fall back against the wall with a soft thump. He nibbled gently at the top of each breast as he brushed the tiny straps off her shoulders and then with one small tug, the slip puddled at her feet. 

Draco didn’t give her time to feel embarrassed about her state of undress. He also didn’t give himself time to think about how she hadn’t worn knickers and was now completely bare in front of him. Completely bare. His lips and teeth closed over her left breast immediately and he sucked hard, teeth rolling her nipple before soothing it with his tongue. Hermione gasped as the combination sent a jolt straight through her core. He kissed his way across her sternum and repeated the process with her other breast as she squirmed.

His lips returned to hers, his head jerking up so fast that they almost knocked foreheads. A nervous giggle slipped through Hermione’s lips and Draco grinned into the kiss, tongue already licking at the seam of her lips and delving in, hot and demanding. 

His knee nudged one of hers, wanting her to open up and let him in, and she froze.

There it was. The moment he’d been waiting for. Draco slowly pulled himself back from the kiss, watching as Hermione’s eyes remained closed for a long moment before they opened, confused, finding him taking a step back from her.

“I’m sor-” she began.

“Shh, shh, love,” he quieted her. His hands moved to unbutton his shirt and he was thrilled to watch as her curious eyes zeroed in on his hands, watching as his long fingers caressed each button before slipping it through the hole, dragging his fingertips down the small patch of material before repeating the process. That’s it, Granger. Watch the fingers. She swallowed hard when he finished with the last button, letting his hands fall to his waist, brushing almost accidentally over the tent in his trousers. She bit her lip.

“Draco,” she whispered, and the look in her eyes had him moments away from coming.

He slipped the shirt off his shoulders, baring his torso to her. Then, those long fingers reached for his belt. She couldn’t tear her eyes away as he pulled the belt free of the loops and tossed it down at his feet. “Do you trust me?” Draco finally asked.

Hermione could feel the effects of the Veritaserum fading, but she was still pleased by how easily the answer was pulled from her mind. “Yes.”

He let out a shaky breath at her readiness. “I’d like to use the binding spell again.” He toed off his shoes and leaned back against their bed to pull off his socks, his eyes never leaving her face. 

Hermione’s hazy brain snapped to attention. “The binding spell,” she repeated, resisting the overwhelming urge to cover herself.

“I’ll be able to feel if you’re in any pain and if you are, I’ll fix it. Plus, I think it could be quite pleasurable for both of us.”

Hermione huffed, using this as the perfect opportunity to cross her arms over her breasts. “I’d tell you if I was in pain.”

Draco stood pressed back up against her, forcing her hands away from her chest and tipping her face up to look at his. “Would you?”

The compulsion still left in the serum had her stuttering out, “N-no. Damn it.”

“That’s what I thought. I think the spell will help us work through those scratched nerves of yours,” he murmured, his nose pressed into her hair as he licked and nibbled at her ear. She shifted against him, trying to rub her hips against his, and he pulled away to look into her eyes once more. “Can I do it?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes.” She was overwhelmed by his care for her. He closed his eyes to murmur the spell and something about those two words, whispered against her lips, and the warmth that spread through her stomach, brought her full circle.

_Conjunctionis Ligavaris_.

Draco took deep breaths, his eyes closed so that he could focus on all the sensations he was now feeling. Pain was easy. Pain could be endured. But pleasure…pleasure licked and tingled and sparked, igniting a wildfire in his veins. It took him a moment to find the threads, to separate her pleasure from his. Once he found it, he dropped to his knees.

“You don’t, you don’t have to-” Hermione stuttered as Draco leaned in and began pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the underside of her breasts, working his way leisurely down her stomach. Oh Merlin, he was going to go down on her. His hands traced circles on her hips and she grabbed them, trying to pull him back up. “Draco, please,” she begged and the thread inside him shuddered with fear.

He looked up at her, refusing to be tugged up. “What’s wrong, little love? What are you afraid of?”

“Nothing,” Hermione lied, and Draco looked up sharply, realizing that the Veritaserum had finally worn off. When he just sat there on his knees before her, looking like her own alabaster god, Hermione groaned in embarrassment and said, “I can’t um, come like this. I’ve tried before. It must have been almost twenty minutes and nothing happened.”

Draco tentatively reached out with his core, inspecting the thread. Like the healer in the memory had said, it wasn’t broken. Just a bit scratched and shy, if anything. He experimented with sending a little burst of his own excitement down the thread and watched in awe as Hermione whimpered, her hand curling into a fist on his shoulder and then stroking down his neck. The thread hummed.

His hand reached out to stroke the insides of her knees, silently begging her to let him in. She was gnawing on her bottom lip and he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her right knee, the one he could tell through the bond had been healed more and was slightly weaker. “Twenty minutes is nothing, Granger,” he said, his voice rough as he forced himself to meet her gaze and not look at her sweet little pussy right in front of his face. “That’s hardly getting started. Let me use my tongue on you. You’re already halfway there, love. Let me taste you.”

She gave in then, leaning back against the wall and allowing him to gently hook her right knee over his shoulder. He ran his fingertips up her calves and thighs before using the pad of one finger to gently swipe at her slit. Hermione’s whole body jerked and Draco groaned when his finger came away wet. “Fuck, love, you’re wet already,” he gasped, the hand on her waist gripping her tightly as he stroked her again. He felt the relief shudder through her thread and silently cursed the Weasel for making her afraid of this.

“Mmmm,” she moaned as he added a second finger, swirling around her opening and lightly brushing over her clit. Draco teased the little bud, brushing over it, then circling it, only to bump it again almost like an accident, pulling away just slightly each time Hermione unconsciously rocked her hips into his hand.

Fuck, he wanted to come so badly.

Imagining they were another part of his anatomy, Draco dipped his fingers into her opening, feeling a warm sensation greet him as some of her wetness, trapped inside, dripped onto his fingers. He groaned and pushed his forehead into her stomach, panting slightly as the feel of her overwhelmed his senses. “That’s it, my love,” he rasped, nipping at her hip bone. “You’re so deliciously wet Hermione. Fuck, I’ve waited so long to feel you on my tongue.”

Hermione was squirming against his fingers as Draco drew them out slowly, making sure that he had her full attention before he sucked them into his mouth, closing his eyes in pleasure at the taste. A moment later, those fingers were back teasing her slit, swirling her arousal around her clit. Hermione gasped. So this is what everyone meant by ‘hot and bothered’. She could definitely see the appeal.

“Oh yes,” she gasped as Draco dipped his fingers into her again, this time curling them and rubbing against that perfect spot. “Ohh!”

He pumped her slowly, being careful not to push in too deep. Not yet. His fingers stroked her inner walls and he watched her face as each pass of his fingers made her twist and gasp. “I imagined this in that shower, Granger,” he told her, feeling his ego swell as she had to force herself to open her eyes and look down at him. “Wanted you to ride my fingers and my tongue until you couldn’t stand anymore. And then I wanted to fuck you all night.” Her eyes were dark pools of chocolate, eyes blown wide, her cheeks flushed pink and her hair frizzing slightly from the sweat that was beginning to bead her body. “I didn’t do you justice, though. You look like a goddess, baby.”

He finally, _finally_ pressed his mouth to her, breathing in her delicious scent as his tongue flicked out to run up her slit to her clit where he sucked hard, just as his fingers pressed up inside her. Hermione cried out, her body clenched around his fingers reflexively and her walls fluttered. The thread hummed.

“Was that-” she gasped, staring down at where Draco’s tongue was still circling her folds. “Was that an orgasm?”

Draco’s eyes crinkled and she had never seen him look so thrilled before, but he shook his head and grinning, tongue swiping at his bottom lip to savor her juices. “Oh Granger, if you think that’s an orgasm, you’re in for a long night.”

And then he dove back in and showed her what an orgasm was.

Hermione thought she was on fire, burning from the inside out. Her hips were rocking against Draco’s face in time to the thrusting of his fingers. He was licking and sucking on her clit and the slurping sounds he was making were positively sinful. She didn’t feel in control of her own body, one hand coming up to squeeze her breast while the other dove into Draco’s silky hair, dragging her nails across his scalp. He clearly liked that, as his pumping increased.

She felt it building, the great and terrible _it_ that had been so unachievable. She began to tremble, fearing that it would come, but that she wouldn’t, that it would slip away like the tide, brushing against the beach but never cresting. And then, just as soon as the fear entered her mind, it was gone and Draco shuddered. His eyes, which had been closed as he savored her, shot open to stare up at her and she was unable to look away. 

His fingers sped up slightly, fingertips pressing just a bit harder inside her, and his tongue swirled around her clit several times before he sucked hard, ever so gently taking her bud in his teeth and rolling it, sucking again. Her breath was coming faster and faster, and her hands gripped him tight enough that his eyes rolled slightly back in his head, but he refused to relinquish his pace. Over and over again, he sucked, rolled, sucked, pressed, licked and repeated, until she was a quivering, panting mess.

He felt her walls begin to tighten and she began to keen his name, completely forgetting her earlier embarrassment at making noise. “Draco,” she gasped. “Draco, yes!”

With one more lick, his eyes met hers and he sucked hard at her clit, thrusting his fingers up and forward, hitting that sweet spot and causing her to shatter. She cried out, digging her nails into his shoulders and riding his hand and face as he stroked her through her orgasm, watching in awe as her face contorted into one of pure pleasure. She seemed to glow.

The heat sizzling through the thread nearly knocked him over and he hastily dropped the thread before it caused him to come as well. His hands were shaking from the strain, from her fear he had swallowed for her, and from the fucking thrill of watching her come on his tongue. “Holy fuck,” he whispered, to no one in particular.

When Hermione’s shudders had died down, Draco slid his slick fingers out of her and leaned forward to lick her once more, grinning as she bucked against him, too sensitive for much more. “Ahh,” she groaned, pulling her knee off his shoulder and sliding down the wall to sit in front of him, still trembling.

Her eyes were wide, disbelieving, and she had the hazy look of someone who had just had a good fuck. “Oh my god,” she murmured, leaning forward to press her lips to his in a messy kiss. “You did it. Oh my god you did it!”

Draco, secretly relieved, grinned at her smugly. “Course I did, Granger. What else did you expect?” He winked at her to show he was playing, and then made a show of raising his fingers, still glistening with her come, to his lips.

Hermione, however, had other ideas. She grabbed his wrist and sent her own wink right back at his confused face, pausing for only a moment before her tongue flicked out to brush against his fingertips, and then she took his fingers all the way into her mouth.

Draco’s eyes bulged. “Fuck!” he gasped, pressing his other hand to his crotch to avoid coming in his trousers like a Third Year. Her mouth was soft and hot and far too wet for him to maintain his sanity. Her tongue swirled around his fingers, licking herself off, delving in between the digits to capture every drop. She kept her eyes fixed on him until she released his fingers with a tiny slurp. His jaw was hanging open and she capitalized, fusing her lips to his and dipping her tongue into his mouth to tangle with his, letting him taste her on her tongue.

He groaned and a fist shot into her hair, gripping tightly, roughly tugging as he slanted his lips over hers and fucked her mouth. His hips jerked up and he groaned again, which reminded Hermione of what she had set out to do. Placing her hands on his chest, she pushed him back and murmured against his lips, “Bed.”

Draco’s eyes were clouded with lust, the color of a riotous tempest. His white skin was flushed a light pink and his mouth was red and swollen. He blinked and tried to focus on her, focus on where they were, and then he realized that they were in a heap on the floor. 

He winced as he stood, his cock so painfully hard that it ached. He tried to pull Hermione up to throw her down on their bed so that he could finally sink into her, but she shook her head and knelt at his feet, a mirror image of him earlier, and reached for the closure on his trousers.

“Hermio-” he started, reaching for her hands but she slapped them away and smiled up at him. 

“Let me return the favor, Draco.” She was already pulling his trousers down his legs, urging him to step out of them, and he was suddenly unable to do anything other than obey.

After a moment, the haze lightened and he realized what was happening.

“Can you-” he began, but Hermione’s fingertips lightly rubbing over the bulge in his pants nearly made him swallow his tongue.

“Can I feel the bond?” she helped him along. He nodded and moaned as she rubbed him again. “I can. I didn’t realize it last time. I just thought I was feeling my own pain. But this time, this time I can feel so much more.” She tugged him pants down, watching as his cock bobbed free. “I can feel how much you want to come. And I think you’ve more than earned it.” His hips jerked forward at her words, precum dribbling down the head of his cock.

As much as it killed him, he tried again. “You don’t have t-”

“Shh, my love,” she said, parroting his words back at him. She gripped his thick shaft and his legs nearly buckled. “I don’t have a lot of experience, but I know I like doing this.” She pumped his shaft once and his hands curled into fists at his sides. “I want to please you. I took a little of your confidence through the bond,” she murmured, her lips a hairsbreadth from his silky skin. “I hope that’s okay.” His eyes were molten as the watched her pump him again. “Will you um, guide me?” She’d officially run out of sexy things to say to him.

He didn’t seem to care. He nodded and gasped, “Just suck me, please, Hermione. Please, whatever you want.”

She wet her lips, which had him groaning low in his throat, and then he was groaning for a whole other reason as she took him into her mouth and sucked. Her eyes rolled back as she rolled her tongue over the head of his cock, swiping at the precum there and sucking. She wanted more. He tasted salty and she loved the taste of him, the feel of him heavy in her mouth and barely able to fit. 

She sucked, her cheeks hollowing out and Draco’s legs shook. One hand fisted again in her hair but he didn’t put any pressure, just delved his fingers into her curls like they would ground him to her. Her lips slid over the velvety skin of his member and the muscles in his stomach jumped when he bumped the back of her throat. She gagged and winced at the sound, but Draco was busy murmuring the filthiest words she had ever heard as he begged her to keep going, told her she was beautiful, that she was his. 

“Fuck, Hermione,” he panted as her tongue rubbed the underside of his crown. “Your pretty red lips look so good wrapped around my cock.” She took him deep and sucked hard as a reward for the praise and his hips stuttered forward. “Shit! Gonna fuck your mouth every day if you’ll let me, baby.”

She groaned around his length, sending shivers through both of them. Her hand was working the rest of his length, the inches she couldn’t fit in her mouth and she found herself adjusting to the small rhythm of Draco’s hips as he had begun to rock gently into her mouth. The hand not fisted in her hair was memorizing her face, cupping her jaw and tracing her lips as she opened as wide as she could and gave him everything she had.

She reached out to gently, hesitantly cup his balls, simultaneously reaching out to their threads and finding his, letting the pulsing that had settled between her legs at the sound of each of his moans flow through the bond.

His legs buckled and he gripped the bed behind him as everything tightened. “Fuck, fuck, Hermione, I’m going to come!” Instead of pulling away, she laved harder at the underside of his head, sucking and humming around his shaft. The hand that cupped his balls tightened just a bit – she remembered that balls were very sensitive bits of anatomy- and then he was spurting into her mouth and the thread between them thrummed so hard, she almost came again.

She swallowed him down, softly licking the last drops off of the swollen head, cleaning him on her tongue. He groaned and pulled her up off her knees, dragging them both onto the bed. She curled up next to him, their sweat causing them to slide against each other, and she hesitantly let her tongue run over his chest, just to taste him. He groaned and pulled her in tightly. “Merlin’s balls, Hermione, I want to say something romantic, but I think you sucked my brains out through my cock.”

The bond hummed with her undeniable relief and satisfaction.

They stared at each other as they caught their breaths. Her head was pillowed on his shoulder and as she stared into his grey eyes, more open to her in this moment than they had ever been before, she felt a wave of love swell up inside of her. “I love you,” she breathed out. “I love you so much.”

His arms tightened around her body and he pressed a lazy kiss to her lips. “I’ve loved you for so long. I thought you’d never be mine. And here you are.”

“Is it everything you imagined?” she asked, thinking back to his memories of her.

“It’s so much better,” he promised without hesitation. Then, his cocky smirk was back and she felt something hard growing against her leg. “Ready for the best part?”

She tensed up at his words, imagining her three failed attempts, but he simply pressed a kiss to her mouth and said, “We’ll go slow. We’ll go so slow.”

When she nodded, he shifted them up higher on the bed and proceeded to explore all of his favorite places from their first round. His mouth took hers, tongues dipping together and tangling until his pulled a groan from her lips. His grin against her mouth had her huffing in mock annoyance, which quickly turned into a moan as he rolled his hips against her, rocking his hardness against her belly.

“You’re so gorgeous, my love, so perfect,” he murmured into her ear as his hands began plucking at her nipples. She gasped again and he egged her on. “That’s it, love. Nice and wet and ready for me.”

Her back arched and her thighs rubbed together as she tried to alleviate some of the pressure building up inside her. Then his fingers were there, dipping inside, rubbing at her walls and his mouth was on her breasts. Hermione cried out for him, her hands fisting the sheets on the bed as she arched against him, sobbing as he flicked her bud once, then twice, before circling the swollen skin and plunging back inside.

She threw her head back and took a shuddering breath, amazed at how quickly she now responded to him. He ground his hips into hers, pushing her deeper into the mattress, and she instinctively bent her knees, using her feet to slot her hips up into his. His garbled reply was a jumble of swear words all trying to exit his brain at the same time. He was breathing hard, short puffs of hot air flaming across her body as he stubbornly kissed every inch he could find. She could feel him as he stroked her across her skin and through the bond at the same time and she tossed her head to the side, dragging in deep lungfulls of air.

“Please,” she begged him, scraping her fingernails down his chest to watch him shiver.

He was back in an instant, chests and hips pressed together as he dipped his tongue so slowly into her mouth. “Please what,” he rasped. His hips rolled up into hers, her slick arousal causing his shaft to slide easily through her lower lips.

But he held back.

“Anything you want,” he promised, doing it again, mouthing at her breasts. “I’ll give you whatever you want, Hermione.”

“Please,” she begged again. “Please make love to me. P-please fuck me.”

Draco swore he was going to come right there, but he settled for kissing her deeply, his tongue fucking her mouth, showing her what came next. Her hands were scrabbling on his hips, his shoulders, dragging down his back. Anything to bring him closer.

He reached between them, gripping his cock and letting the head of it brush up against her pussy, letting her arousal coat his shaft. He felt Hermione tense as his head dipped into her. Gripping his shaft at the base so he didn’t explode right there, he reached out for the bond, finding her thread and stroking it gently in time to his movements. He let only the head slip into her before he pulled back, teasing her over and over again until she was squirming under him, lifting her hips to try and draw him in further.

He gritted his teeth and forced himself to take his time, allowing himself just a bit more of his shaft to sink into her, hissing in pleasure as it came out glistening wet. He tried not to think about how tight she was, tried to ignore the goddamn heat of her. He forced himself to stay in control.

Hermione was still shifting her hips, trying to work out the age-old rhythm of the push and pull, something she had never understood before but desperately wanted to understand now. Draco was easing back into her for another pass when she lifted her hips and he sank in deeper, sucked in easily by her wetness.

They both gasped and Draco’s hand scrambled to her hip to pull out or push further, he didn’t know. And then, he felt it. Slicing through his extreme pleasure was a sharp ache coming from Hermione. She was holding onto him so tightly, not breathing, with her face screwed up in pain. Immediately, Draco pulled the thread, letting the ache and pain strike his body instead of hers. She released a deep, shuddering breath just as the areas inside his hip bones shattered and squeezed. He gritted his teeth at the pain, realizing that if he was a woman, his whole reproductive system would be on fire right now.

Hermione was pressing a hand to his face, her eyes now concerned and bright with tears. “It’s okay,” she whispered, trying to pull him down to her. “It’s okay I can take it. It wasn’t that bad this time.”

Draco let out a pained puff of air. Not as bad? He didn’t want to imagine what it had been like before. He rested his forehead on her chest, pillowed on her breasts for a moment as he fought her for control of the thread. “I’ve got it,” he grunted, nipping at her breast. Her hips rolled at the feel of his teeth on her flesh and they both groaned as he sunk a bit deeper into her body.

“Share it with me,” she demanded, but he shook his head, sweat beading his brow and dripping into his eyes.

“It’s better,” he lied, and began to pull out again. Slowly this time, he eased into her, one hand on her hips to keep her from thrusting up too hard. The pain receded slightly, dulling to a strong throb.

He chanced to press a bit further, and just before he was fully seated, the throb eased up to an ache. He took a moment to let them adjust, but he could feel that Hermione was still uncomfortable, despite the transfer of pain.

He moved his hands under her rear, cupping the back of her thighs and tilting her hips up higher. They both gasped as he bottomed out in her and the throb fizzled away. Draco blinked several times to clear his mind and to make sure that the pain really was gone. 

He glanced down at where they were joined as he pulled out, feeling her walls resist, trying to drag him back in and he pushed forward just as Hermione lifted one leg and pulled it up to her chest. The pleasure nearly choked them both as the threads zipped back and forth. “Fuck!” Hermione cried out.

Draco growled, pushing her leg up even closer to her chest and slowly pumping into her, forcing himself to still go slow, to check the bond. When he found nothing but pleasure, he pulled all the way out and let himself sink back into Hermione’s slick heat. She mewled and he swore, and so the rhythm began.

Soon, her hips were stuttering and finding the tempo as he thrust into her, pulling all the way out before pressing back in, beginning to speed up as he felt her fingers tugging at his hair. He looked down to watch his cock slip in and out of her pussy, the wet sounds he pulled from her each time he retreated causing a tingle to reach all the way down to his toes. He swore he’d fuck her in every position known to man if she would just keep making those delicious noises. “Nnngh, yes,” Draco moaned against her mouth, his tongue sliding against hers as they panted into each other’s mouths. 

Hermione was making the most delicious sounds, gasping his name and arching her back as he rocked into her. His cock would brush up against her front wall at nearly every pass; she found herself reduced to a writhing, sweaty mess on their sheets. Draco wasn’t doing much better, alternating between open-mouthed gasps and a filthy dialogue each time his eyes locked on to where their bodies were joined.

“Aahh! Draco!” Hermione gasped as he pistoned his hips up at the last moment. Both their eyes rolled back in their heads and his hands gripped her thighs so hard she was sure he would leave bruises. “Oh my god,” she groaned.

“You’re so tight.” He was biting his lip, almost like he was in pain, but his eyes burned for her. “You’re so fucking tight. Merlin, you feel like you were made for me.” His thrusts were speeding up and Hermione matched him thrust for thrust.

“Draco, Draco, yes,” she babbled, feeling her orgasm drawing closer. “Please, yes!”

Draco’s thrusts were getting erratic, but he gritted his teeth and drove into her again and again. He felt her walls flutter and he nearly sobbed with relief. “That’s it, little love,” he rasped. “Come for me, Hermione. Come for your husband. Come all over my cock, please!”

His words only turned her on more and she hardly heard herself as she whimpered, “Please, oh god please, please let me come!”

Draco waited until the very last moment, just as her body began to lock up and her walls began to clench around him, and then he moved his finger to her clit and rubbed hard. Hermione exploded around him, screaming out her release. She looked like an angel then, head thrown back, hair fanned out on his pillow, mouth open in the most beautiful O. 

Draco felt bright light prick his eyes as he thrust hard into her, feeling her walls clench down around him, and then he was gone. He felt her pushing some of her orgasm at him through the bond and he thought he was going to die from the pleasure. It turned him inside out and he didn’t even register that his hips were still moving inside her, filling her with his warm seed, until a few moments later when his was able to peel his eyes open.

Hermione was breathing hard, but she pulled Draco down against her chest, despite his weight, and nuzzled him. “You feel so good inside me,” she whispered, and he could hear the catch in her voice. He looked up, alarmed, but she waved away his concern. “Happy tears,” she promised, humming as his lips kissed away each one. “I never thought I would get to feel this way.”

“You’re amazing,” he told her breathlessly. “I love you so much. How did I get this lucky?”

“You saved my life, several times in fact,” she told him softly, pressing soft kisses to his chin. When he protested, she added, “And I guess I saved yours, in a way.” He moved to pull out of her, but her walls were still clamped down on him and her arms tightened around his neck. “No, not yet,” she begged. 

Draco rolled them over, still joined, and tucked them both under the blankets. Exhaustion was beginning to take its toll, but he still ran his fingertips across Hermione’s back, waist, bottom, and legs to convince himself that she was real. That they were really here. He grinned against her hair.

“What?” she asked sleepily.

“It’s such a good spell,” was all he said. She snuggled in close as her breathing evened out and he vowed never to let her go.

He would tell her one day about the scared little boy at Malfoy Manor, who had seen a girl he loved from afar about to die and had desperately used _Conjunctionis Ligaveris_ , knowing that it was ancient magic, successful only for those with high enough magical core compatibilities to be soulmates. He never expected it to actually work. It was that night that he let Potter steal his wand so that he could steal _her_ away as well. And as he listened to the demons of hell scream their displeasure at the escape, he had promised himself that he would be better. He would be worthy of her one day.

Worthy of the ties that bind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for joining me on this fun journey! Hope you got some warm fuzzies out of it! :)


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